


Guardian of the Knight

by UnsuspectingYandere



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bro failing to be the best bro he can be, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5107283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnsuspectingYandere/pseuds/UnsuspectingYandere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew what would happen when he found the kid in the crater but there was no way he'd leave his cute little brother to fend for himself. Even if it meant being hated by the person he loved most. [Conflicted!Abusive!Bro] [Might be Semi-AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Crater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro finds a baby in a crater and realizes fate dealt him the worst hand possible.

I stared at the infant sleeping in the smoldering crater, nestled against the charred corpse of a… was that a _horse_? The situation was strange in itself, but the fact that an insanely large meteor impact took place in the middle of Houston, Texas, and no one besides me decided to check it out made it even stranger. Another oddity was the niggling feeling I'd had all day to simply wait by my favorite record shop without entering it. Every time I tried to either enter or leave, I'd get an overwhelming sense of foreboding, forcing me to remain close enough to see it but far away enough that in the event something immensely destructive occurred, like, say, a meteor obliterating it from the face of the earth, I would be unharmed. In fact, it was almost as though I had known the meteor would land right where the record shop used to be. But something like that… wasn't that impossible? Of course, as I gazed at the snoring child, that thought was clearly proven wrong.

"Hey li'l guy," I said, reaching down to pick up the child. He blearily opened his eyes at the sound of my voice and the breath was momentarily knocked out of me. Crimson eyes burned themselves into my soul and I realized who this child was. Blurry memories of nightmarish visions surfaced once more, images of a future filled with metal and blood superimposing themselves on the present. This was my mysterious baby brother, the one who would become a reluctant knight? The fates truly were cruel.

I slipped a small replica of my sunglasses onto his face, schooling my expression into something relatively neutral as he scrunched up his face, clearly uncomfortable. He'd just have to learn to live with it. My heart swelled with affection towards this mysterious infant, feeling an immediate connection to the child. Was this what it was like to be a parent? I never intended to experience the feeling but it appeared I had no say in the matter. At least he was a cute baby. And I had Li'l Cal to help me care for the kid. Realizing I didn't really know his name, I quickly reviewed the snippets of his future I had received throughout my lifetime. Surely I'd be able to find it in there _somewhere_. I caught a brief glimpse of it in a vision of a Pesterchum log with someone with the handle EB. My mouth quirked into a small grin. "Well, it's very nice to meet you Dave," I murmured, somewhat sadly.

The cooling horse cadaver was thrown over my shoulder, the added weight not affecting me in the slightest. Had I been training for this my whole life? The dark images of his future burned into my retinas, flashes of pain and suffering filling my mind with uncertainty and worry. From those images it was clear I would be the one to train him for his duty, whatever it was, but it was also painfully obvious I would also be the object of his hatred his entire life. As I flash stepped home, I decided to treasure the few weeks I'd have with him before I'd be forced to start training him. Then, when all was said and done, at least I'd be able to claim I'd truly loved him for a while.


	2. Admissions of Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave admits his feelings mid-beatdown and Bro tries to pretend he's not hurt.

He was crying again but I wouldn't comfort him. Showing any kind of affection would only make him weak. "Get up lil' bro," I ordered the sobbing toddler, tumultuous amber eyes hidden by opaque shades. He shook his head, burying his tearstained face in his hands instead. "Get up Dave!" I snapped. His wailing only got louder. A vein ticked on my forehead and I nearly snarled, furious, but I quickly forced myself back under control. No need to lose my cool. Striders _never_ lose their cool. Sooner or later Dave would learn that lesson as well. Knights must remain composed at all times; my not-so-gentle training would ensure his poker face would be unbreakable.

My lips twisted into a slight grimace, barely detectable unless someone was looking closely at my expression. "Oh, so that's how it's going to be then?" The dangerous edge in my voice made Dave's head snap up in terror, but it was too late for him to repent. I flash stepped in front of the sobbing kid, grabbing him by the collar and dangling him over the edge of the apartment building, trademark grin firmly in place. Dave's wailing ceased immediately, his stubbornness evaporating as he realized his deadly predicament. "If you're going to be so disobedient, maybe I should just drop you right now. It'd be so much easier for me if you had a little… _accident_." Somehow our strifes always ended up this way. I hated it.

"Bro, no, please no!" he begged, sunglasses askew. My hand loosened on his collar and he shrieked, although it appeared he finally learned not to struggle. Good. Tears cut paths down beaten and bloodied cheeks and my heart ached, wanting nothing more than to heal his wounds and care for him like a real brother should, but such a thing was impossible.

I wore a sharp smile on my face as I held him in front of me, practically nose-to-nose with the sniffling toddler. "So you'll actually train now instead of acting like a pathetic baby?" I asked, my eyes narrowing in a calculating manor. He nodded frantically, his head moving so fast his shades fell of his face. Terrified crimson orbs reflected briefly on my shades before I flung him roughly to relative safety, watching with forced apathy as he hit the entrance to the stairwell with enough force to crack the plaster. Did I break his ribcage again? I really hoped not.

I hated the hand fate had dealt us. I really did. Who in their right mind would think beating a five-year-old boy to a bloody pulp every day would be beneficial to the kid's development? Apparently I did. My combat prowess was unmatched, sure, but there must've been _someone_ out there who would've been a better guardian than I. But the future was laid out in neat little blocks for me, detailing everything I needed to beat into my little brother before his time ran out, and I knew I had no other choice. Tough love? No, love wasn't something that existed in our little household anymore; it had left three years prior and it would never come back. All I had left were a few precious memories and shirts I'd never be able to wash the blood out from, a constant reminder of my sins.

I strolled towards the small pile of concrete. _He should be getting up any moment now._ Sure enough, a small, bleeding hand emerged from the rubble, slowly followed by the rest of his body. The painful grin on my face was genuine this time, pride at his resilience dangerously mixing with my intense self-loathing. If he kept on like this he would certainly survive the trials of his teens. I despised the ominous knowledge that drove me to such extreme lengths, but what else could be done? I was never meant to be a decent guardian anyway, but the least I could do was prepare this poor kid for his bloody future.

Shaky hands covered in cuts and scars that didn't belong on the skin of a child clutched a sword that was far too big, far too dangerous. "I _hate_ you, Bro!" he screamed, acknowledging his feelings for the first (and, as he would soon learn, last) time, lunging at me with an expression marred by confusion and anger, and all I could do was mask my pain with a cocky smirk and continue beating my little beloved brother into the burning concrete. Hopefully he'd be knocked long enough for me to at least apologize to his broken, unconscious form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you still think there's a happy ending to this story you are sorely mistaken.
> 
> [Chapter originally posted 10-02-15]


	3. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not that they don't have money, Bro just thinks he's strong enough to go without food already. He is sorely mistaken.

Dave had finally learned not to ask me for anything, but I could hear his whimpering from behind the bedroom door. They were small, dry sounds, barely even audible over the whir of the shitty electric fans scattered about our messy apartment, but they grated on my nerves nonetheless. Hadn't he learned not to make any noise at all? Going three days without food should be easy; he was five, definitely old enough to survive a couple days without anything to eat. I had gone weeks without food when I was stuck out on the streets as a small kid and I turned out just fine. If he kept making those pathetic sounds I'd have to drag him to the rooftop for another strife. What a disgusting little –

My mouth twitched into a frown. When had I become so… _cavalier_ towards my li'l bro? I grit my teeth. _It's for Dave. It's for the game._ No matter the excuse, my actions weighed down on my soul. _What a shitty card to draw..._ _  
_

I stared at Dave's closed door for a few seconds longer before retreating to my own room, locking the door behind me. Li'l Cal was propped up on my unmade bed, his shit-eating grin reflecting on the edges of my shades. Throwing myself onto the balled-up sheets with a heavy sigh, I placed my shades on the nightstand and stared listlessly at the ceiling with dull amber eyes. I had been caring for my little brother for five years now, plenty of time for me to grow to love him, and yet a strange sense of agitation nestled deep within my chest each time I saw him, growing and twisting in my gut the longer I spent time with him. It left a bitter taste in my mouth, something reminiscent of bile and rust, acrid and dusty and so, so familiar. Hatred, my mind supplied. But, that couldn't be right, could it?

I could easily recall doting on and adoring him the first few days after his… _impressive_ arrival on Earth, cooing and holding and cherishing the cherubic being I'd have to raise, knowing I'd have to watch him go off to fight in some strange war, still far too young to carry such a heavy burden. I knew that I'd be the one to raise and train him, to hone his skills until he was practically unbeatable, a killing machine with some heart to spare, but I had intended to at least be a little likable on some level, especially while he was still young. When had my intentions changed from "strife with a purpose" and "endurance training" to "unnecessarily cruel beat downs" and "cause as much trauma as possible"? I stared at Li'l Cal, as though he could give me the answers I was looking for, but his glassy eyes betrayed nothing.

A shuffling noise in the hallway caught my attention, an uneven and heavy sound accompanied with labored panting that made warning bells ring loudly in my head. He wasn't supposed to leave his room unless something was very, very wrong. "Dave, what the fuck?" I muttered, slipping my shades back on and flash stepping out into the hallway, katana in hand, Li'l Cal thrown over my shoulder. Making my way to the kitchen in the blink of an eye, I almost missed the toddler lying facedown in the filthy, carpeted hallway. What a pain. At least he hadn't verbally asked for anything. "Oi, punk, what're you doing out of your room?" I demanded, schooling my expression into an impassive mask. Couldn't make it look like I cared. Maybe, on some level, I wasn't really acting.

Instead of responding to my verbal barb, Dave simply lay there, unresponsive. His breathing was shallow and labored and, even more concerning, he wasn't sweating. The strategically placed fans, while helpful, didn't cut through the blistering Houston heat in such a way that he wouldn't be perspiring. "Guess I fucked up a little more than I thought I would," I mused out loud, kneeling to pick up the unresponsive toddler. _He's far too light_ , I thought. _Perhaps I should've fed him more last week…_

Part of me told me to just let him starve to death, make his miserable life shorter and less bitter, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. So instead I placed him gently on his bed, covered his forehead with a damp washcloth, left a small sandwich and a glass of water by his bedside, and locked myself in my room.

At least no one could hear me cry for the lost companionship with the only person I'd ever loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this chapter is written in a different tone than the previous one but hey, I'm not really good at keeping a consistent tone. My zone is one-shot land and this is definitely not a one-shot.
> 
> [Chapter originally posted 10-19-15]

**Author's Note:**

> This plot bunny has been bouncing around wildly in my head for months now, ever since I read that yes, Bro was an absolute piece of shit towards Dave. I had trouble reconciling the image of abusive!Bro with my personal headcannon of caring-but-distant!Bro and thought, "hey, maybe I should try and write out what happens when Bro genuinely does care about Dave but abuses him anyway because he can't think of another way to make him tougher!" and thus, Guardian of the Knight was born.
> 
> Please note that this will be a series of drabbles set at random points pre-Sburb, possibly a few taking place in-game sometime before Bro and Davesprite battle Bec/Jack Noir. I haven't attempted to write a story with multiple chapters in several years, so I won't be able to update this story regularly unless I manage to crack out several chapters in one go.
> 
> [Chapter originally posted 10-01-15]


End file.
